VampVerse drabbles
by runephoenix6769
Summary: Collection of drabbles and companion pieces for VampVerse. AU, 17th/18th Century. Own Supernatural lore. M (Gore) Full explanation inside. Numerous Glee characters. inc Brittana
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys this is just a few drabbles that are happening within the VAMPVERSE universe.

I have an idea for VV that takes in the whole world with characters that pop in and out.. not all of them will feature Brittana or the Unholy Trinity.

This takes place after the first VV. Its been rattling around in my head. Dunno what I'm at with it yet.. so im gonna put it as a one shot.

Don't worry, im nearly done the next VV chap . it will be uploaded in the next few days.

CHARACTER : SAM EVANS

x

HAMRVERSE.

X

_1701. Hadsberg. Saxony._

_x_

Samson concealed himself in the shadows as the voices of the Justice Keeper's prattled on. He had been told to keep his distance and only observe

The smaller blond, who seemed to be in charge, he had been warned of. It was widely known upon the wolf song that she could sense his kind.

He drew his hand through his shaggy blond hair, intently watching as they dragged out the body of the creature in a heavy, thick sheet.

As he continued to observe the trio, he could not fathom why people feared them so.

They reeked of lesser wolf, in particular the taller blond. She seemed dippy and easily distracted. Like a new born faun, she danced and flittered, unaware of the dangers that lurked in her surroundings.

The waif like brunette however prowled through the night like the lynx's he had seen in his home territory of the Dmitir . Silent, deceiving and not to be underestimated, a lesson he had learned in his whelping years, the scars of which he bore in his nuque and shoulders.

The shock had been enough to trigger his change, too young and under developed. But he had persevered. No one had expected him to survive and when he had, they had bestowed upon him a name meaning strong, that any man would understand.

He had tracked them for days. A thin strip of leather at his wrist interwoven through a crystal he had begrudgingly traded with a Cretian Mystic, offered him a layer of protection.. He had also masked his scent just to be on the safe side.

He could not afford being discovered.

The future of his tribe was riding on his shoulders and this was his way to prove that that they were worthy of inclusion.

The story of one they called Fenrisùlfur had floated upon the Wolfsong.

This Wolf hailed from the vast lands far across the frozen waters. He had traversed it single handed, facing Ice Giants and feeding from White Bears. He bore the scars of his journey upon his rippling muscles. His tawny mane was thick and by tale of those that joined the chorus, he dwarfed them in size. They themselves admittedto being but ordinary wolves to his stature.

Many howled that he was Dshal incarnate.

Fenrisùlfur had gone out into the wilderness and returned when Mother Moon bestowed upon him her woes.

She was displeased with her children. They had forgotten their roots and their heritage.

What had happened to her proud and mighty warriors?

Why had they allowed humans to encroach upon their territories, scaring the land with their stone monstrosities and taking the fruits of the forest from the very mouths of the pups.

They had become complacent and no longer held Mother Moon in her reverence.

Instead they scavenged for scraps at the tables of lesser creatures

Were they not ashamed?

The Wolf song had yammered and howled with the discontent.

The humans had driven them from their homes. The blood suckers barged through their lands with no thought, policing them when they attempted to reclaim what had always been theirs.

The packs had been called.

"Send me your sons, send me your daughters." Fenrisùlfur had demanded. "Let me raise leaders like the tribes of the days of yore so they can take their rightful place."

And so the packs had sent their strongest and brightest true born offspring. They went as wet behind the ears whelps and would return as battle hardened Alphas.

One pack however did not answer the call.

A tribe that every other knew by name because they thought themselves better when in fact they were cowards.

The pack itself was Samson's sworn enemy before the arrival of Fenrisùlfur.

Once over they had been one huge pack who had willingly and gladly helped Vlad on his rise, lured by the offer of more territory and freedom to do as they pleased within their boundaries.

They had enjoyed their gifts and things had been restored to the old days, when they could run free through the lands, un bidden.

When he fell, the humans had fought back, killing anything that resembled a wolf. Half of the pack had remained proud and dignified, retreating back into the dense forest and rugged terrain from whenst they came, content to wait until the time was right to exact revenge.

The other half however did not, they wanted to ask the Vampire's for their assistance.

The pack had split down the middle.

Two champions were chosen to settle their differences, a fight to the death. Samson's ancestor had lost and his supporters driven out of their homeland, where they had roamed until they came upon The Dmitir forest and settled a new.

No sooner had they turned their backs, the traitors ran like runts with their tails between their legs to the same creatures that had betrayed them, hiding behind their skirts and curling up like pets in front of their fires. Their young fed from the hand of the yellow eyed bitch. She gave them books instead of tools. Taught them languages of men instead of wolf dialect and meaning.

Their young began to revere the syphilitic whore rather than their true Mother.

They flaunted their new allegiance, without shame, for all to see, fashioning themselves garments, spending obscene amounts of time in biped form and conversing in moots with the villagers. They trampled through territories, ignoring the traditions and customs of their kin. All the while the surrounding packs watched on in disgust and yet not a move could be made for fear of the repercussions.

Now their beloved Sophia was gone, The Bohmerwald territories were rife for the taking.

Samson had risen through the ranks, focused and resolute on claiming the territories that rightfully belonged to his own tribe. He would return his homelands and his kin, glorious and with pride.

But in order to do so, he had, had to make concessions.

At first he had been loath to deal with the Vampire with the hair that smelt of strange oils and did not move even in the strongest of winds. But it was he that had stripped the Bohmerwalds of their protection.

The simpering creature asked only for one thing. When the time came he would be given his rewards and allowed to do as he saw fit with the spoils.

Samson had conceded. It was small in comparison to what Samson himself would gain.

The odd Vampire who spoke in a soft voice continued to deliver information, and so far it had all rung true.

Hence the shabby blond haired Versipellis standing in the middle of a blizzard, watching these supposedly fearsome vampires, he called Justice Keepers. Apparently this House of Dubois, what ever it was, would be their biggest obstacle.

The dippy blond and the feral eyed brunette continued dragging the ghastly creature's carcass towards an awaiting travel wagon. The one they called Luce calmly walked behind as if she was upon a relaxing afternoon jaunt,

The dippy blond, stopped in her tracks, whining,

"Why do we have to bring it. It's scary!"

Luce continued across the square, un clipping the back door to the wagon,

"Britt, I keep telling you. We can't leave it lying around. The thing is un natural"

The brunette kicked it with her boot,

"It's fucking ugly, is what it is!"

The taller blond he now knew as Britt continued to whine like a pup shoved from a kill,

"It's going to give me daymares!"

The brunette rushed to soothe her. Their interactions suggested that they were mates, which confused Samson. Females did not mate with females.

"For the love of Methusela Britt!" Luce cried in exasperation, " We don't even dream."

"I do to!" Britt churlishly replied.

"Can it Fabray!" The brunette snarled over her shoulder as she continued to draw her fingers through Britt's hair.

"No! I don't see how the hell she can claim she's gonna have day mares. Being trapped in a confined space next to you two for the next few weeks. That's a fucking nightmare!"

"Awww Luce, you getting all hot and bothered cause you can hear our lady loving?"

"You can join us if you like!" Britt piped up.

"Britt!" The brunette and Luce exclaimed in shock.

The behaviour of these bloodfiends was strange to Samson. They suggested they lay with each other as imprinted pairs might.

Britt giggled at the thunderous expression on the Lynx's face, kissing her chastely on her glowering tanned cheek.

Ignoring the display, Luce inquired,

"Britt, did you ginger the horses?"

Britt began drawing patterns in the snow with her foot, grinning like a fool.

"I did! Apple nearly spat it back out though. I don't think he liked it very much."

Luce strolled over to the corpse, instructing,

"Tana, you take the back. Britt go steady the horses, just in case. The last thing we need is them bolting and us stuck here with this"

Britt skipped through the snow, coming to a halt next to the two heavy steeds who jangling their bits impatiently. One let out a soft nicker as she began to stroke their noses, cooing in their ears.

Luce bent down, taking the corners of the sheet.

"On three Tana."

The brunette threw up her hands in resignation before gripping the corners at the front.

"One."

"Two."

"THREE"

In unison the two vampires lifted the creature as if it was a sack of grain. Tana walked backwards up the steep incline, disappearing into the back of the wagon. Luce quickly followed.

The metal braces on the wagon sank a good foot under the sheer weight, creaking and squeaking in protest. The horses at the front startled slightly, snorting, hindquarters dancing and ears flicking back and forth, their harness jangling, whilst Britt soothed them.

Suddenly the two vampires alighted from the wagon, pushing up the ramp and locking it in places with large and heavy looking padlocks.

Tana wiped her hands on her breeches as Luce began to sprinkle something on the ground, covering their tracks. Even in the murk, Samson could make out the faint orange wisps of smoke.

Tana quickly hauled herself up into the driving seat, reaching for the reins and patting the seat beside her. Britt gave both horses a loving pat and settled the half blankets over their haunches, before gracefully leaping up behind them and snuggling in as close as she could to her 'mate.'

Luce continued to diligently sprinkle the concoction upon the fresh snow.

She paused for a moment, straightening herself and setting her shoulders. She shielded her eyes with her hand, scanning her surroundings. Cocking her head, she peered intensly into the gloom right at the spot were Samson stood hidden.

He held himself still, cursing the Cretian Mystic. Surely he had been spotted.

"Jesus Fucking Christ Fabray! Come on!" Tana impatiently shouted, "I'm freezing my lady balls off here!"

"You don't even have balls!" The small blond yelled back.

"Fine! We're leaving you!"

The crack of reins rang out and the cart creaked and the wheels crunched as it began to lumber across the uneven ground. Luce hesitated, whipping her head to look at the wagon and back to the place were Samson was concealed.

Turning on her heel, she ran, leaping into the air and landing softly on the roof of the wagon. The sound of Luce and Tana bickering could still be heard as they left through the gate and down along the lane.

Samson counted to ten, before he too set off in hot pursuit. Leaping the wall, he changed into wolf form. At least this way he would be able to keep his distance and rely on his nose.

It had been a close call.

And for him, failure was not an option.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys and dolls.. Heres yet another drabble set within the VAMPVERSE world..

CHARACTER : SUE SYLVESTER.

x

ORDINUM COLUMBA.

X

_A Nunnery high in the mountains. _

_x_

She basked in the scorching rays from the sun that shone through the stained glass plates that depicted the crucifixion of Christ, bathing her in an array of colours and burning her scalp.

The discomfort a constant reminder of the suffering He had endured. It was a small price to pay in comparison to the sacrifice He had made so that she might be saved.

Her black habit absorbed the heat, holding it close to her slight frame. Her flesh prickled at the scratching coarseness of the material, her muscles ached with fatigue at her knelt position and the weight of her habit heavy with sweat. Her voice was hoarse from the repetition of the Saints. The vowels and the consonants scraping over her bone dry vocal chords.

Her eyes flickered to the miniscule wooden bowl beside her knees. It held the tiniest drop of clear liquid, glittering and inviting. She steeled her resolve. To drink it would mean the end of her benediction. Over the years she had trained her body to survive on the minimalist amount of sustenance, sometimes going for days without a morsel passing her lips. She could last up to four days without rest before the visions began to appear.

The sacrilegious demons had the advantage of physical strength and speed but they also had their vulnerabilities and in that weakness, the Sister found her own advantage. She could transcend the parameters laid upon her by her mortal form, all it took was dedication and conviction in her mission.

An image of her innocent baby brother flashed across her mind. The puckered scars across her torso burned with the memory.

Once more worn smooth beads began to fly over the callous' of her fingers.

Even in her deep state of worship she registered the opening of the heavy chapel doors and soft footfalls approaching.

With her hands still clasped, she opened her eyes and into the face of The Lamb of God, the thorny crown weighing heavy on his brow, his pained eyes turned to heaven, only steeling her determination further.

She pressed the warm rosewood to her lips and crossed herself, before holding out a pale, tapered hand to her left.

The young acolyte took it in her own as the Mother Superior of Ordinem Columba rose to her feet, unfolding slowly, pausing briefly to allow the sensation to return to her legs. Sipping the last bit of water from her prayer bowl, she gave a little cough. She spoke in Latin, the universal language, the words came out clipped but sharp, belying its lack of use,

"I trust there is a reason why you have disturbed me in my service?"

The young nun inclined her head, offering out a piece of parchment, whispering, timidly in reply,

"You asked that we bring all letters of urgency to you immediately"

She fixed the young girl with a pointed stare before snatching the tiny letter from young nun's trembling, out stretched hand.

With a hawk like talon, the Mother Superior broke the wax seal embossed with the stamp of the Vatican, slowly unfolding its creases. Her eyes roved over the Latin words written in a spider like scrawl

She looked up into the face of the acolyte, eyes wide and skin ghost white with terror.

"Gather your Sisters... It is time"

The young nun bolted, the sound of her feet slapping off the flag stones, slamming the chapel doors in her haste, the sound breaking the silence of the once peaceful chapel.

The Mother approached the lone burning candle on the alter. The one that signified the soul of the one she had held dear. Such attachments belonged to another life. to a life that no longer existed, extinguished the day she had taken her vows

: Holding out the letter, she watched as the flames licked at the edges, tinged with green and light tendrils of smoke. Looking up once more at the face of her Lord, she spoke with fervency ,

" I shall be your vessel upon this earth and I shall root out the evil . They will feel the burn of thy blade and they shall quake for when they look upon the face of God they shall know true fear. And we shall cast them into the fiery Pits from whence they came "

The bells from the church began to toll out across the nunnery.

Dropping the letter upon the stone alter, she turned, taking swift, determined strides towards the chapel doors, leaving the last remnants of the letter to curl upon itself, turning to ash ..


	3. Chapter 3

Here's another drabble folks… TRIGGER WARNING GORE!.

CHARACTER : SHELBY CORCORAN.

X

VAMPVERSE

X

_Basque region of FRANCE. Early 1700's._

_x_

Shelby Deveruex, or rather Shelby Corcoran as she was known in certain circles before she had married, was not a privileged woman, however that did not mean that she was not comfortable. She was the wife of a successful and respected merchant, his business sometimes carrying him off to the far corners of the known world for months on end.

Ask anyone in the bustling hub of the trading town nestled in the Basque region and they would tell you that Shelby was a good individual. She taught the Sunday school, paying extra attention to those that struggled. She was courteous and polite, regardless of anyone's station. She and her husband would always stock the apples for the apple bobbing stall at the Harvest dance and they would always be willing over look a payment on groceries if a family fell on hard times.

All in all, she was a kind natured soul. And she was, but as with all things, there are always two sides to a tale.

Unbeknownst to her neighbours she had for a brief period been under the tutelage of a Grand High Mystic, before he had been brutally murdered, burnt at the stake for heresy and witchcraft. He had kept his tongue, refusing to name his brethren, giving her chance to get away and find herself a new life.

Now, she kept her beliefs and practises under firm wraps. She busied herself with the Church and the goings on of the locals to throw off suspicion. She even went so far as to dress down and not draw attention to her striking features. She would pull her long, silky dark brown hair into a braid and wear clothes that allowed very little skin to show.

Nobody pointed a finger and made accusations of witch craft as fast as a jealous, attention starved wife.

She would laugh internally at the Father on the pulpit at Sunday mass, mouth foaming with fanaticism as he ranted and raved about the goings on of the Witches.

She couldn't ever remember being naked, dancing round a fire in the dead of night. Well there was that one time at the Summer Solstice but that had been her initiation, she had been quite drunk on mead so that didn't count. She most certainly didn't eat children and she had no idea what enjoyment anyone would derive from cursing a cow. Animals got sick, just the same as people.

Being she was ever cautious, she could not pay homage to Gaia as much as she would like, too afraid that she would be discovered, but was one part of her heritage that she could openly embrace and she did.

Her familiar.

Her majestic white dove, Ashel.

Many of the townsfolk commented that the sight of Ashel perched upon the roof of Shelby's dwelling, or high up on the Church tower brought them a sense of peace and well being. Ashel truly was a sign.

Shelby's husband had bought a pair and she had explained to the fascinated townsfolk that the breeding pair would help her and her husband communicate. They could tie tiny scrolls to their legs and the cock would fly off to find its hen. There had been a chorus of warm sighs and aww's .

It was a pile of codswallop.

Her husband had been intercepted by one of her fellow Mystics and encouraged to buy the pair, there by delivering her new familiar straight to her door.

If her husband had cared to look he would have seen that the birds weren't even the same breed. Her dove was almost twice the size of the other.

When her husband had left with his, she had muttered good riddance. Needless to say, a 'dove letter' never arrived and she feigned sympathy at her husband's loss when he returned and found his cock had not.

However her dove Ashel did do her job to perfection, flying fair and wide over the countryside delivering her words to her scattered sisters and returning with the important news.

One such scroll had done just that.

She tossed a handful of grain out onto the thoroughfare outside her shop for the hungry birds. Ashel bobbed and weaved amongst the red feathered hens that clucked and pecked at the bright yellow kernels amongst the dry earth.

"Hi Mrs D" a small boy called out as he led his bare foot little sister down the road.

"Bonjour Pascal,." She replied with a grin and a wave. "Make sure you know all the Saints by morning."

He returned it with a gapped toothed smile and an enthusiastic wave of his own podgy hand.

"I will. See you tomorrow."

She watched with a warm smile as the two urchins began skipping, Celine's tiny legs struggling to keep in time with her older brother.

Checking the coast was clear, Shelby leant back against the warm brickwork, slowly teasing open the miniscule scroll.

If found by prying eyes, it would look like a jumble of simple words. However the seemingly random words held more meaning to those that could decipher them. Shelby had learnt plenty under her tutor's watchful eye and she had turned into a more than competent Mystic.

She was fluent in Spanish, her native language, Swato and she could also speak enough French to get by.

The news upon the parchment was distressing indeed.

Everybody in the region knew of the story of the place that was referred to as Casa de los Inocentes Sacrificados hidden with in the streets of the neighbouring trading town.

For nearly thirty years the Lopez residence had remained empty. Bold teenage boys did not dare each other to prove their manliness and even vagabonds dare not seek shelter with in its walls.

Shelby herself would have been but a teenager when word of the vile atrocity had been whispered and murmured by merchants and tradesmen in the ale houses of her village.

Small papers had been written and pictures drawn. Townsfolk and farmers alike crowding round those that could read, listening in hushed silence,

In the early morning an apprentice ostler from one of the inns had come running to retrieve Dr Lopez and had stumbled upon an horrific scene.

The room was in disarray, furniture splintered, tables over turned. Blood lined the walls and even dripped from the ceiling. Amongst the chaos lay the bodies of the Lopez family, drenched in their own blood.

One of the boys had been so brutally beaten, his skull caved, he was completely unrecognisable. Another had had his throat torn out, as if gnawed on by a savage hound. Their limbs snapped and bent at eye watering angles.

The most heart wrenching part had been the infant sister. Beneath the broken and mutilated bodies of her brothers and Father, she had been discovered curled in a ball, wearing her older sister's sleep shirt. The five year old little girl looked as if she was sleeping, still clutching her teddy to her chest. The shit and urine stains on her shirt tail the only outward indication that she had witnessed the horror which would be her last memories on earth.

The rumor mill had gone into over drive, washer women and midwifes gossiping amongst themselves.

Some speculated a robbery gone wrong. Passing bandits or mercenaries thinking a Doctor must have riches.

Others, a deranged patient, wild and feral with madness.

Some held the travelling gypsies responsible.

Disturbingly, some claimed that Dr Lopez himself had killed his family consumed with grief due to the tragic loss of his eldest and by all accounts the apple of his eye, the beautiful and wilful Santana.

The culprit was never found or brought to justice. So many new faces based through the hub of the large trading town on a daily basis the sheriff had no idea where to begin his investigation. Instead the crime had slipped into obscurity, whispered as a grim fairytale to frighten wilful children.

"If you don't go to sleep Dr Lopez with come and gobble you up!"

Somebody had painstakingly tended to their graves over the long years and the locals sighed that at least the Lopez clan had reunited in the afterlife

But the tiny scrap of paper in the palm of Shelby's hand said other wise.

Santana was alive, well as alive as a vampire could be.

Shelby knew that many of the cunning folk were vehement purists and would not hesitate to exterminate the Undesirable, she viewed them as lacking vision for their future.

But times had changed, they were in the middle of a war and they were losing.

The Mystic covens were weak and were too few. They had been hunted to the brink of extinction. Apprentices no longer came knocking on their door, eager to learn herb lore and the ways of the Orders.

Once over, finding youngsters with a knack or natural talent had been easy, now the boys listened to gold and the girls doted on husbands and possessions. People no longer cared for the flow of energies that came from the land. They no longer paid homage to Gaia or the Horned One on the Solstice.

The cunning folks power and knowledge passed via the word of mouth, if there was nobody to pass it to, all would be lost.

Maybe a creature like Santana was exactly what they needed to change the tide?

Who knew the power that her blood might hold? Who knew the potions and charms that could be created from it.

Shelby had heard tale that some Vampires had abilities and she wondered for a moment if they might carry through.

They had to get to Santana first and the Vagabond would be perfect man in mind for the job.

Quickly, she made her way inside into the gloom the shop. She clicked her fingers and muttered a quick charm in Swato, causing the lantern on the counter to ignite. Deftly she plucked the quill out of the ink well, beside the accounts ledger ignoring how the ink dribbled upon the stained wood.

Hurriedly, she wrote out a message on the back of the small scroll, signing it with her usual code. Abandoning the feather upon the counter, she rolled the paper as tightly as she could before making her way back outside.

Shelby clucked her tongue. Ashel gave a small flap of her dazzling white wings, alighting on her Mistress' outreached arm. The bird purred and blinked, patiently waiting. As Shelby began to affix the letter into the miniscule holder on the dove's leg, she affectionately coo'ed,

"I know my sweet.." The bird bobbed her head, narrowing her eyes. Shelby continued, "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

The white bird gave a flicker of its wings as the Hedge witch stroked its head lovingly. Bringing Ashel closer to her lips, she uttered, faintly,

"Find the Vagabond."

With a swing of her arm, she helped launch her beloved guardian into the air, marvelling how effortless the bird moved. She remained in the thoroughfare, staring up into the summer evening sky until Ashel became a speck, lost against the back drop of lazy clouds.

It was important that they get to Santana first and if anyone could find her, it would be Blaine.

X


	4. Chapter 4

CHARACTERS :- Brittany P . Santana L

x

VAMPVERSE.

X

_1700. Switzerland, Zurich. House of Dubois._

x

Brittany breathed in deep. She loved the way she could taste the aromas of all the different flowers and plants, how they mingled together in the barmy air creating a perfume that belonged to her home.

House Dubois had a beautiful and extensive gardens tended to, under Kurt's loving supervision, by the thralls, not that he would ever get dirty himself.

Finding an interest to be passionate about was a well known and much encouraged vampire trick, it helped make the passing of the centuries easier to bear.

Lucinda had her weapons, Charlotte, her literature; Kurt had his gardening and the two girls, well, for now they had a keen interest in anatomy, mainly each others.

Brittany's favourite part of the grounds was the maze which she was currently stalking through. The hedges stood at least 8ft high and were so dense she couldn't see through them, even with her heightened vision. Occasionally the sheer hedges would be broken by small nooks with stone seats, intricately laid out flower beds and bushes beautifully crafted into interesting shapes.

Once more, Brittany caught a whiff of an aroma that was not native to the garden but most definitely gave her a sense of belonging. It was a scent she had come to intimately know and fiercely love.

It was a scent that had lingered in her dreams. A scent she had smelt in numerous countries. A scent that instantly covered her skin in goose bumps from excitement and at the same time calmed her. It was an aroma that she had followed so many times, she couldn't even remember.

Brittany smiled to herself, as she continued to shadow the movement the other side of the foliage., her footfalls light and delicate, barely making a sound as she continued to stalk exactly how her Dam had taught her..

Tips of your toes, she mumbled to herself.

Bats danced acrobatically with each other, their small, furry bodies standing out darker against the light blue tinge that ran through the summer night's sky, flitting this way and that, narrowly missing her.

The hedges beside her rustled.

Santana's education had begun and by all accounts she was, as Kurt had predicted, an apt and quick study. Holly and Lucinda took turns in teaching Santana the more strenuous, physical side of combat and weapon use and the small brunette had taken to it like a duck to water.

Charlotte had decided that it would do Brittany no harm to also train and had appointed herself, Brittany's Tutor. Holly had encouraged it, saying that it would give them the opportunity to bond as a team.

Brittany was convinced that the two sisters were once again having one their strange competitions and she and Santana were the unfortunate instruments. The siblings claimed that it was just a coincidence and it was always better to have a sparring partner anyways.

It added authenticity.

The majority of the time is was fun, until the sisters started arguing, standing nose to nose, hazel eyes flashing, yelling at each other and throwing accusations of cheating and sabotage.

At one point it had come to blows.

The siblings had brawled, swiping and hissing at each other as they pulled hair, destroyed stables, spooked horses and broke nails.

Now, when it looked like it was about to get heated, Brittany and Santana would drop what ever they were doing and attempt to make themselves scarce before they could be dragged into the feud which would always result in the two greenhorns standing awkwardly, worrying their lips and eyes darting between their elders.

Santana would suddenly remember she had to brush up on Bloodline History, her most hated subject, and drag Brittany to suffer along with her.

On the edges of the blue eyed girl's hearing, she picked out the tiny scrunch of a foot upon pebbles. Crouching down, she picked up a stone, testing the weight. Were as Santana was fast and stealthy, Brittany was sneaky and agile. Flinging the stone over the tall hedge, she waited for the tell tale sound of feet scurrying across the ground.

She was met with silence and the odd hoot of nearby roosting owls.

Crinkling her nose, she grinned to herself. Santana was playing it smart this time.

Or she was cheating by using their bloodbond to sense where her playmate was.

Lucinda would no doubt praise Santana on using her ingenuity and Charlotte would point out using the blood bond defeated the purpose of playing the elaborate game of hide and seek. Using the bond they shared was all good and well when chasing Brittany but it would be useless against other opponents.

Brittany, herself, was not above using trickery. She could pinpoint Santana's position within a few feet by smell alone.

Santana could never figure it out and Brittany would never tell.

It was her little secret.

Pillow talk and bribery of sweet lady kisses didn't work on her in this instance, Santana, however, turned into the biggest ball of mush. With a few choice words and masterful touches, Brittany could reduce her lover to a quivering mess, light confessions tumbling from her plump lips like a torrent of water bursting through a dam.

Santana would look at her with those big brown eyes, full of warmth and love. When she begged, pouted and pretended to sulk, Brittany would find herself almost caving.

Deep down they both knew that Santana was too stubborn to ask out right and wanted to figure out the puzzle for herself. Until then, they would both enjoy the pretence that Brittany's mystery annoyed her and the delicious sexy ways that Santana attempted to entice the blonde to confess her formula.

Brittany sucked in her lips and gave an involuntary shudder at the memory of Santana earlier that day, the look of sheer devilment in her eyes as she nipped up the inside of Brittany's pale thighs, teasing and taunting her. Brittany's hands had been tied, quite literally, and she had let out the loudest moan when Santana had finally swiped her tongue up through her slick folds.

As she strained against the flimsy silk that had been used to bind her, she had giggled when Santana had repeated a bastardised version of one of Charlotte's rules of survival,

"Restraint and control is the key to an orgasm."

Brittany had whimpered and gasped as her lover very gently broke the skin above her left breast with her fangs. They had both watched with fascination as Santana's tongue darted out to clean up the crimson droplets before the bite mark quickly healed, seamless as if it had never been there at all.

No matter how long they lived for, she doubted watching Santana do that would ever grow old.

Over the last few months, their love making had been reduced to gentle touches and caresses. Holly had yelled at the pair of them for breaking yet another double breasted coffin and told them under no circumstances was she ordering another one. The next one they broke, they would have to make do and mend.

(It was at the moment being held together by nails)

It didn't mean that they didn't make noise, much to Lucinda's annoyance.

In the evening, after a rambunctious and vocal day, the ash blond would sit at the corner of the dining table, grumpy and muttering into her goblet about 'harlots' and the youngling's instantly knew that Santana was about to be knocked the living nightlights out of, wrapped in the guise of a strenuous training session.

On those evenings, Santana always kissed Brittany sweetly on the lips, grinning and assuring her that it was totally worth it, just to piss off Fabray and the training sessions would make her a better Justice Keeper anyways.

Kurt on the other hand would swan in as fresh as a daisy, plonking himself down and beginning reading some book on Botany. One night drunk on Taint, he had confessed to Brittany that after a particular day of mistaking the pair of them of being feral cats in heat, he had taken to sleeping with wax and cloth in his ears, as had Holly and Charlotte.

It didn't block them out completely; more muffled it to an acceptable level.

None of them had thought to tell Lucinda, finding it more entertaining to watch her stew and drive herself to distraction.

As he said, grinning wickedly,

"One must learn to enjoy the small things in life if one is to live forever."

It had been like a red flag to a bull and the two younglings had gone at it quite enthusiastically after that, seeing who could illicit the loudest noises out of whom.

The sound of a branch snapping roused Brittany out of her thoughts. Further over she could hear the rustling of leaves. Slowly she crept towards it, keeping her body low and her movements light and swift.

As she approached, the bush ceased to shake. Brittany could sense that there was something large attempting to conceal itself.

They had agreed that if Brittany won tonight, it would be Santana's turn to learn a lesson in patience.

If Brittany lost then… Well….

Brimming with excitement, Brittany bunched herself. Swallowing the snicker that threatened to erupt from within, she slowly reached out.

Suddenly a body launched from the dense undergrowth, barrelling into Brittany's chest and knocking her on her ass.

Brittany scrunched her eyes against the onslaught as a warm, wet tongue attacked her face. She laughed gleefully as Bramble, shaggy tail wagging, continued to pin her with his large, broad paws, snuffling his damp nose against her cheek and she let out a girlish squeal as a rogue, sloppy lick landed in her ear.

Pushing him off her, she staggered to her feet, brushing the dirt from her breeches.

"Where is she boy?"

Ruffling the Snuffer's mangled ear and whipping him into a frenzy as he bounced up and down in excitement, she encouraged

"Find Santana!"

Whirling round in circles, he jumped towards her, planting his paws before leaping away. He began to yip, his tail becoming a whirlwind.

Bringing her fingers to her lips, she whispered,

"Shhh!"

His tongue lolling, he took off along the path at high speed, his humongous paws flicking up tiny stones in his wake, with Brittany closely following behind.

Exiting the path, they came to one of the many squares that ran throughout the maze. At the centre, a bush sculpted into the shape of a svelte dancer reaching for the stars, rose up from a flower bed. The flora had been planted with care and precision so the vibrant colours of the petals created beautifully intricate patterns and shapes.

Three paths led off in opposite directions back into the maze. Here, Brittany could feel the caress of a warm, gentle breeze upon her skin.

Bramble sat on his haunches, thumping his tail excitedly, looking between the blond and the bush.

Confused, Brittany followed his line of sight. At first she didn't notice it, until she really peered into the topiary. There, nestled into the crook of the sculptures neck, she could make out the darker shape of a long beak.

Luca!

If he was here, that meant Santana was close by. The bird never ventured far from her shoulder.

Smirking and hoping to draw Santana out of her hiding place, Brittany called out loudly, circling the borders of the flower bed, her eyes darting into the shadows of the hedges and the pathways.

"Buddy, I said Santana not Bushtana!"

The blond took a small, sly sniff. Furrowing her brow, she came to a halt. There was nothing here other than the perfume of the numerous flowers, mingling together.

All of a sudden, Brittany found herself face first and star fish in the soft, loam of the flower bed, with a welcomed weight on her back. A smug voice, sensually rasped in her ear,

"Gotcha!"

Luca and Bramble took off into the night.

"Mhpfhfff!"

The familiar voice that made Brittany weak at the knees and ache in her lady regions, mocked,

"What was that sweetheart? I didn't quite hear you?"

Brittany turned her head to the side, spiting and spluttering in an attempt to remove the mouthful of dirt she had almost swallowed out of shock.

"I said. Kurt's going to kill you! You squashed his poises,"

"Screw him." Santana murmured, nuzzling her nose against Brittany's ear.

Brittany attempted to gather her wits.

"Santana, we cant, you know how he gets over his posies. They came from England don't you know."

She tried to gather her arms under her to lift them both, Santana, gently but firmly shoved her back into the dirt. Brittany bit back a small moan at the feeling of Santana's breasts pressed into the muscles of her back.

"Don't even think about it!" Santana growled, wriggling her knees between Brittany's thighs, keeping them spread to stop her gaining any leverage with her legs, "I won fair and square!"

"No you didn't!" Brittany petulantly huffed, crinkling her nose at the silky tickle of the petals against her cheek.

They both knew deep down, that if Brittany wanted to she could quite easily flip them into the air and there would be nothing Santana could do about it, other than make sure she landed on her own two feet and not her face like the last time.

Slipping her caramel hand over Brittany's pale one, Santana laced their fingers together, chuckling, darkly,

"Prove it sweetheart!"

Santana began to nibble along her conch, scratching her nails lightly long the blond girl's scalp. Brittany shivered in delight.

"San!" she whined.

"Do you like that sweetheart?"

The lithe blond closed her eyes, humming in response and relaxing back into the dirt. She really had no choice. Brittany felt Santana raise herself on one arm and leg,

"Turn over."

Dutifully, Brittany rolled over in her back. They were already in so much trouble, what were a few more squashed flowers?

The brunette gently lowered herself back down, moulding her body into her lover and resting on her elbows. She grinned broadly, whispering affectionately,

"Hi."

Brittany returned her greeting,

"Hey."

Santana began to tenderly wipe the excess dirt from Brittany's cheek and pulled an errant stalk from her hair. Flicking it to one side, the Spanish girl chuckled.

"You're such a messer."

Hooking her legs round the back of the other girl's calves, holding her in place, Brittany pouted at her girlfriend's insinuation

"It's not my fault."

Santana guffawed, her eyes dancing with mirth as she ground her hips down suggestively.

"Whose fault is it?"

The blond remaining resolute, huffed, fauxly,

"Yours!"

"It is n…" Santana reply turned into a gleeful squeal as Brittany began poking her in the ribs.. "Britt!"

The two girls giggled and squeaked as they rolled in the flower bed, neither one intent on losing the tickle fight. Slipping her hand beneath Santana's shirt, Brittany wrapped her arm tight around her waist, holding her close and giving the wriggling brunette no space to move.

Cant tickle someone if you cant reach their ribs.

Brittany began to nibble and nip up along the expanse of a cool, caramel neck, causing the Spanish girl to cease her struggles.

"Britt." She breathed.

The blonde rested their foreheads together, looking into Santana's eyes. They were as black as the darkest night save for two pin pricks of fire, Brittany always imagined was Santana's very soul.

She felt plump, satiny lips press to her own. The strong, taunt muscles of Santana's back rippled beneath her fingertips as she trailed them up and down her spine, relaxing into her lover's kiss.

She closed her eyes as Santana took her bottom lip between her own and gently tugged. Brittany trailed her fingers along the contours of Santana's ribs, enjoying how the brunette shivered at her touch.

Santana's tongue darted out to meet her own, dancing them together. The blonde's hands crept up her torso, gently palming her breasts. As she drew the pads of her thumbs over Santana's nipples the brunette let out a little moan into her mouth sending tendrils of electricity to Brittany's core.

Suddenly, Santana broke the kiss, sitting back on her knees. Brittany whimpered at the loss, attempting to follow. She felt a light but firm hand press against her chest.

Brittany rested back on her elbows and watched Santana through hooded eyes as she tore her shirt over her head discarding it into the flowerbed.

Brittany's mouth watered as her eyes roved over Santana's firm full breasts and down long her sculptured torso in the blue hue of the night.

Their eyes locked. Brittany stroked a feather light finger along the dip of firm, toffee coloured abs, whispering,

"You're so beautiful."

The brunette threw her a wicked smirk as she shuffled forward, straddling her thighs. Unable to control herself any longer, Brittany gripped Santana by the hips, pulling her forward, growling, lustily,

"C'mere!"

She began to alternate between playful nips and soothing kisses along Santana's prominent collar bone and up long her neck. Wrapping an arm around her waist, she pulled her lover flush against her, enjoying how she could feel every twitch and quiver of her body and the ever so slight gyration of her hips as she rocked slowly against her.

Santana wrapped her fingers through golden hair as Brittany began trailing hot, open mouthed kisses back down, letting out a sharp gasp at a particular harsh nip.

Brittany darted out her tongue, teasing Santana's nipple, the sound of frustrated whimpers like music to her ears.

Santana's grip in her hair tightened and she let out a tiny cry as Brittany encased the stiff peak in her mouth and began swirling her tongue and sucking gently.

The brunette's hips began to pick up pace, searching for some sort of release.

"Brittany!" She moaned as Brittany grazed her teeth over the swollen nub. Her tone desperate, "Baby, please!"

Giving it one last flick, Brittany released her peaked nipple, admiring how it glistened. Her voice was thick as she husked,

"What sweetheart."

Santana pulled the hair as the back of her head, kissing her hungrily, gripping Brittany's wrist and guiding it down her stomach.

"I want you."

The blonde slipped her hand beneath the waistband of woollen breeches, into the soft curls of her mound. She could feel just how sticky and ready Santana was for her.

She eyed the brunette impishly, as she danced her fingers over the swollen, wet nub that demanded attention. Santana body jumped at the contact.

The blond drew her tapered fingers through slick folds, enjoying the wetness.

"Jesus, San, you're soaked."

"It's what you do to me," She replied between sucking and nibbling kisses against Brittany's lips.

Brittany teasingly dipped a finger into Santana's entrance, before slowly drawing it out.

On top of her, Santana bucked impatiently, whining,

"Britt! Stooop. You're teasing."

Brittany chuckled as she slid her finger deep inside velvety, wet heat. Santana let out a long low moan.

This is how Brittany liked Santana best, writhing on top of her, completely at her mercy. She began slowly drawing her finger in and out before suddenly adding another, loving how she stretched to accommodate her.

Santana began rocking her hips in time with Brittany's thrusts. The blond let out a hiss at the sensation of her lover's nails digging into the flesh of her back.

Brittany registered a voice in the distance drifting over the maze,

"I wonder where they are. They ought to be back by now."

A clipped female voice joined it,

"I don't like it when they are quiet."

Brittany's eyes darted, slowing her ministrations. She hissed urgently,.

"San!"

Santana continued to gyrate on the blonde's lap, her breasts bouncing invitingly in Brittany's face, completely unaware of the approaching pair.

"Werent you complaining this evening that they are too loud?"

"No! I don't like it when they are quiet. It means there're up to something."

Brittany sank her fangs into the soft flesh of Santana's neck to get her attention,

"Santana!"

"Don't stop!" Santana panted, "So close."

"But…" Brittany stammered.

Santana slammed Brittany into the ground, her fangs bared and eyes wild, growling

"Don't you fucking dare stop!"

Brittany's stomach coiled and her core throbbed at Santana's forcefulness. Adding another finger, she thrust in deep, curling her fingers and hitting that sweet spot she knew would make her lover crumble. She pumped her fingers in and out, alternating between fluttering, twisting and stroking her pulsating walls as Santana, hair tousled and brow knitted, rode her fingers with abandon.

She continued to hit that sweet spot as Santana began to chant against Brittany's lips,

"Oh god! Britt.. Oh god."

The sight of Santana, open mouthed and the liquid that dripped down her wrist was too much. A strangled

'Fuck, Babe, your so .. Fuck!"

She could hear the sound of footfalls on gravel, getting closer. It wouldn't be long before the other two found them. Speeding up her thrusts, she pressed the heel of her palm against Santana's sensitive clit.

Santana cried out her name into the night, stiffening slightly before quivering and shaking in her arms, her walls holding Brittany's fingers in a vice like grip. Unable to thrust anymore, Brittany fluttered her finger tips instead, prolonging Santana's orgasm as a mixture of Spanish and French obscenities tumbled from her lips.

"What was that?" Kurt asked.

"What do you think?" Lucinda replied.

Santana collapsed on top of Brittany, twitching and whimpering as the blonde slowly withdrew her fingers.

The steps were rapidly approaching, navigating their way through the myriad of passageways.

"I swear to god, if they are defiling my flower beds!"

The small brunette snuggled into Brittany letting out a small hum as Brittany gently lay light kisses at her temple and her forehead. Her eyes closed and a dreamy smile on her lips, the blond was loath to move her.

"San," She urged, "We have to go."

Santana grunted in reply,

"A few for minutes."

"We cant! Were in enough trouble as it is."

Slowly and carefully, Brittany sat up as the small brunette lolled against her.

"Come on babe."

Santana groaned grumpily, clambering to her feet. Brittany quickly retrieved the discarded shirt, taking a moment to take in the flowerbed.

It was utterly destroyed. Barely a flower remained intact. Some had broken stems, others petal less but the majority had been flattened completely.

The girls looked at each other. Santana shrugged and Brittany grinned broadly before they entwined their fingers and took off at break neck speed down one of the pathways and into the depth of the maze.

A few moments later, wrapped in each others arms and hiding in the relative safety of one of the many squares they heard a blood curdling scream, followed by a broken wail

"My poises! My beautiful poises!" Kurt's voice became shrill, "It took me weeks!"

Lucinda's voice rang out clear,

"It's your own fault. I told you they were up to mischief!"

Irate, Kurt began to yell as loud as he could,

"I'm going to kill you! Do you hear? You're dead! The pair of you!"

Collapsing into the bushes behind them, Brittany and Santana broke into gales of laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

For DreamMerchant, who loves her some ninja Lucinda..

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CHARACTER : LUCINDA FABRAY.

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VAMP VERSE.

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The streets of the forest hugging town were deserted, the lanterns and torches long ago extinguished, the lantern boy no doubt not seeing the point so late at night and fighting a loosing battle against the cold, damp autumn air. Better he stay wrapped up warm in his bed rather than risk a bout of sickness that would render him useless and cost him his wages.

Lucinda drew her gloved hand through her ash blond, chin length hair as she patiently waited, concealed in the shadows, her hazel eyes never leaving the two story building across the thoroughfare. Inside, she could hear a number of relaxed heartbeats, normal for humans slumbering, and the slightly faster flutter of a something else..

It had been surprisingly easy to locate her mark.

A 5"6' refined lady of delicate stature with a fine bone china face that looked as if it had been created by the finest craftsmen, making inquiries as to her estranged, dear friend's whereabouts tended to loosen most men's lips and if that didn't work, coinage could always be trusted to deliver.

Her own kind had been quite eager to divulge whatever snippet of information they thought might be useful to help an irate Vampire on her way.

It would seem that on his travels her quarry had not made many friends, or rather he had, they were just the wrong sort.

Still, she had expected it to be a bit more of a challenge.

The none descript town was exactly the type of place she expected to find the snivelling, little turncoat. The surrounding dense forest would more than provide for his dietary requirement of mushrooms, nuts and worms, and he could steal all the milk he wanted.

That's how she had tracked him through the lush countryside. Strange phenomena of dairy curdling in its buckets and cattle turning dry early had reached her ears and she had set off in hot pursuit.

It would seem he had learnt a trick or two over the years, mastering the art of masking what he truly was.

The varmint was passing himself off as a travelling merchant dealing in woven bracelets and charms that warded off evil spirits, fairie folk and Witches, fashioned from useless beads and baubles.

Of course some of the simple farming folk had fallen for it, fuelled by the fear of the sickness and sermons full of evil doers, helped long by the disgusting creature's curses upon the live stock of those that didn't buy his trinkets or had insulted him.

Thinking himself safe, the spiteful creature hadn't even bothered to cover his tracks.

Well, he was about to find out just how much his hubris was going to cost.

Peering from under the lip of the lentil, Lucinda observed the night sky. The moon was in its first phase and it's weak rays couldn't penetrate the heavy bank of clouds that had rolled down from the dense forest.

Good. She grinned, tugging at the thread of catgut, checking the slight resistance of the spool concealed in the sleeve of her shirt.

The lack of light and cold, heavy moisture in the air were the perfect conditions to stalk the creature she currently had in her sights. .

Her thoughts flickered briefly to Brittany and Santana, who were probably entertaining themselves at someone else's expense.

Both girls would have enjoyed this no end, well, Brittany, who liked playing the coy, damsel in distress, more so than the bull headed Spanish girl who still wasn't entirely comfortable in her skin, until said bait laid a hand on the blond and then all hell broke loose.

Maybe she ought to have brought them along. It would have been good practise for the pair and a rare opportunity to educate them both that there were more species in the phenomenal community than just Mystics, Vampires and Versipellis.

She could only imagine what Brittany's reaction would be like when she found out that Fey folk genuinely existed. The French girl had been convinced that she had seen fairies in the gardens of House Dubois which as Lucinda knew simply wasn't possible.

Yes, they existed. And the Justice Keeper had a unique experience.

The Fabrays had once been the proud owners of a banshee who had screamed and wailed the evening her sister, Charlotte, died and then returned seven months later when Lucinda lay agonised on her death bed due to a cursed draft she had stupidly believed would rid her of her sister's ex, and now her, husband's seed.

The bitch had wailed, gnashed, shrieked and moaned when all the dying woman wanted was a bit of peace and quiet.

Years later when their older brother had passed due to old age, Lucinda had caught up with the banshee, giving her one hell of a wallop and warned her, if she ever so much as made a peep ever again, she would cut out her tongue and sell it on the underground. The banshee had feebly shook her chains and then stopped when she caught Lucinda's glare.

Then there were the illegal markets she had seen as a novice that had sickened her to the stomach. Fey folks pelts and bones were said to contain potent magic and there was much money to be made if you could procure such things.

No creature deserved to be treated in the fashion she had witnessed.

She had heard rumour that eons before she had been re-birthed the Fey folk used to frequently visit the mortal realm, for want of a better word, but now because of the fear of capture, they tended to stay in the Summerland out of the way of prying eyes and they most certainly didn't flit about in peoples back gardens willy nilly.

However, that was not to say that on occasion one might get curious or some idiot would piss them off and they would come out to play.

Normally it was just small things, like wrecking the house or scaring the be jesus out of the family pet. Sometimes it leaned more towards the dark side, like say kidnapping or 'borrowing' as they called it.

Everybody knew the stories, a young maiden or a man would wander into the woods, disappear and then years later return, having not aged a day. Some returned enfeebled and old.

But the one thing that was agreed, was that they came back 'changed'.

They would continue their lives, some would marry and in turn have children, who would probably have an uncanny ability with animals and plants, or an aptitude for playing haunting melodies. They made excellent hunters, fur trappers, cheese mongers and dairy maids.

All in all, usually they were relatively harmless and caused the Justice Keepers no trouble. The Mystic's tended to bring them into the fold anyways. However, once in a while something would turn up, like Gunther.

He was a nasty piece of work said to have Goblin somewhere in his ancestry...

On one rare occasion, Lucinda had come across a Goblin at one of the underground markets. It had been rammed in a cage meant for a chicken, its arms and legs twisted. When she had approached it had hissed in fear and tried to shrink back as far as its small cell would allow. She had unlocked the latch murmuring assurances that it would not be harmed, holding out mushrooms to coax it from out of its confines. She had just about been able to make out large, bright eyes from beneath its bushy eyebrows and long wispy beard before its long, spindly arm whipped out and the fungi had disappeared from her palm.

She had watched fascinated as razor sharp teeth decimated the mushroom with in seconds. It had cocked it's head and regarded her owlishly before attempting to wrap its tongue round the foreign language, asking, timidly,

"M-Or-E "

When she had produce a handful of mushrooms from her pouch, its ugly face had lit up with glee and it had knuckled, with surprising speed, out of the cage, grabbing the morsels with both its over large hands, stuffing them into its mouth.

The shape of the creature was enough to make her eyes water, its deep brown skin looked leathery, its shoulders and back sprouted with coarse dark hair much like a hog. It barely came to her knee. It had licked its fingers before suddenly darted up her arm clinging to her shoulder and back, much like a terrified child, and had remained there as she traversed the rest of the market until she had to reluctantly hand it over to the Mystic whose job it was to help return them to their homes.

She hadn't been able to get the stink or the stains of its drool out of her clothes and so had settled on burning them.

If only Gunther had been like that, instead he had be human too, and it was the human part that turned him into an obsequious wretch. .

The click of a door opening roused her from her thoughts.

Pressing back further into the gloom, she coolly observed as a bandy legged man of small stature stepped out on to the thoroughfare, closing the door of the dwelling very carefully behind him.

As much as she adored the two Green Horns and wished them to share the experience, this was something the Senior Justice Keeper needed to take care with no distractions.

This was personal

Checking her charms were in place, she waited until he had hurriedly travelled some distance before leaving the confines of her hiding place and began to make her way, fleet footed, through the damp, cobbled streets.

X

Up ahead, Gunther began to veer off, hopping in and out of alleyways and sometimes retracing his steps. Occasionally he would drop stink bombs in a weak attempt at masking his scent. Not that did him any good, the stench emanating from him was enough to make Lucinda's eyes water.

The Vampire was in no rush, as she knew exactly where he was heading, besides if she wanted to follow him at close quarters all she had to do was listen out for the yowls and screeches of the town's feline population to signify his passing.

It hadn't been hard to locate his lodgings, a modest caravan set in a traders paddock on the outskirts of town. The horse already harnessed to the braces, ready to leave at a moments notice in the dead of night would have been a major giveaway if it hadn't been the only wagon there.

The Justice Keeper ducked into an alley way and propelled herself onto a roof, watching keenly as the scrot quickened his pace, no longer making any pretence of his destination.

As he galloped up the road towards the gate, throwing worried glances over his shoulder, the ash blonde darted along the outside wall, coming to a halt twenty feet away from her marks abode on wheels.

The Gabfling's hands flew over the leather harness checking for any sabotage. Finding none, he seemed to visibly relax before pulling himself up into the driver's seat, clucking his tongue and giving a flick of the reins.

The piebald mare flickered her ears, ambling across the paddock and out through the gate onto the road.

Like liquid silk, Lucinda slid over the wall, covering the distance to the moving caravan in a blur and neatly hopping on the back trellis.

As Gunther was attempting to sneak out of the town, without alerting the inhabitants to his hasty departure, Lucinda loosely held on and checked all her pockets, taking stock of everything she had at her disposal.

She had her trusty gauntlets, the left stake replaced with a spool of catgut. Wrapped around the waist of her corset were two brown leather pouches. The front one that rested on her hip was full to the brim of Clover dust and the other contained the amethyst crystals and charmed beads. Her dagger lay tucked in its padded sheath against her thigh and her right boot was decidedly heavier than the other.

Tucked into the breast of her corset, nestled in between the leather and the fabric of her shirt underneath was a penned affirmation, protecting her from his heathen tongue. Also against her breast, but against the skin, she wore her Velysian stone.

There were a handful of ways you could get rid of a Gabfling, many of which would not be uttered outside of the covens, leaving her with limited options

Gabflings as a rule were wickedly strong, on par with true born Versipellis and definitely equal to a Vampire.

If she was lucky, she would catch him unawares and it would all be over.

Taking the right-hand fork that led out into rural areas, the caravan swayed gently making tiny creaking noises that mingled in with the sound of the wheels upon stones. From inside the caravan, she could hear the banging of pots and jars sliding in their shelves

Hoof beats became muffled and the cart lurched forward as the mare picked up pace, trotting on the earthen track, her harness jangling. Countryside began to whip by, sweeping pastures on the left and trees on the right.

Peeking round the side of the caravan, she could see the track hugged the tree line before disappearing into a heavy coppice.

The thick foliage would provide cover, making it the perfect place to strike.

Remembering that this fucker liked to fight dirty with a penchant for gouging eyes, Lucinda pulled down from the crown of her head, a pair of clear screened goggles, fixing them in place and checking the tightness.

Holding on with one hand, she took a huge breath, grinning from ear to ear.

She felt the familiar anticipatory tingle start in her gut, embracing it like an old friend as it spread through her like fire, muting the voices that plagued her.

This was _her_ purpose.

She loved the addictive feeling .and smug satisfaction of winning and knowing that she was the best at what she did and nobody, not even her chosen, older sister, could rival her.

This was _her_ domain.

As the cart trundled into the coppice, Lucinda nimbly climbed up the tiny, wooden slated ladder, easing her slender but powerful frame on to the slightly curved roof, hoping to drop down on the unsuspecting Gunther.

She wanted this quick and neat.

Lying flat on her stomach, the Justice Keeper silently shimmied over the smooth, wooden surface, working her way towards the front of the wagon. The cool, brisk wind whipped at her hair and face and she was grateful for the protection leant to her by the goggles. The last thing she needed was a fly or piece of dirt impairing her vision.

Slowly, she teased out the thread of catgut from the spool, wrapping it three times round her right hand and then repeating it with her left. Bunching her muscles, she manoeuvred into position, ready to reach over the lip of the caravan.

Suddenly, the roof behind her exploded sending up a spray of splintered wood and a clawed hand locked onto her ankle, tugging her hard.

Terrified, the horse bolted, breaking into a gallop.

Gripping on to the wagons roof as it began to bounce over the uneven track, Lucinda turned her head to look over her shoulder, kicking at the hairy hand that was squeezing the delicate bones in her ankle.

Using all his weight, Gunther yanked her backwards through the hole in the roof. She screamed as the jagged planks tore into her thighs and lower stomach not protected by her corset.

Her leather belt snagged on the wood, stalling her trajectory for a split second before the snarling, Gabfling tugged once more, flinging her harshly onto the floor of the cabin.

Instinctively, Lucinda drew her forearms protectively to her face and upper chest as a set of claws raked the leather of her gauntlets. Kicking out wildly, she grinned in triumph when she felt the heel of her boot connect with a doughy stomach and a mixture of a gurgle and a groan reached her ears.

Scrambling to her feet, she steadied herself, narrowly avoiding being hit by the flying debris of crockery and knick knacks jostled from their homes.

Vampire and Gabfling eyed each other across the minuscule space. Swinging pots banged and drawers rattled all around them. Feathers flew up as a lone chicken squawked and flapped in its cage. Lucinda yelled, derisively, over the noise,

"Really Gunther, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

The ash blond's eyes raked over the creature. He stood at 5ft, and would probably be a little taller if he's sinewy legs weren't always bent outwards at the knee. His long, lank hair was thinning on top and his brown tinged skin looked like it was covered in a layer of grime. His thread bare jacket was two sizes too big giving his chest a concave appearance, but she was more than aware of what power lurked under the off black material. He'd gained some weight round his waist and in his cheeks since she had seen him last.

Business must have been very lucrative indeed.

Set between two swamp green eyes was a long but bulbous whisky nose, tinged red. He grimaced at her with off kilter, yellow and brown teeth set within at least a few days stubble. He rasped, clutching his stomach,

"Friends knock!"

Bracing herself, she spat back,

"And friends don't sell each other out, you snivelling little rodent!"

Gunther smiled broadly, showing his foul teeth as he shrugged, whimsically,

"Business is business, Miss Fabray!"

Despite his carefree attitude, she could smell his nerves in the form of an over powering stench of body odour. The enclosed space reeked of it and for once she was grateful for not needed to breath. Trying not to taste the rancid air, Lucinda bared her fangs, snarling,

"So you're a business m.."

The caravan tipped heavily to one side, throwing Lucinda off balance and slamming her head brutally against the sharp edge of one of the numerous in built cabinets. Reeling she was vaguely aware of high pitched shriek before a strong shovel like hand encompassed her skull, violently bashing her head through the flimsy wooden wall.

Once more the wagon banked to the other side, throwing the Vampire and the Gabfling back across the living space. Quickly, Lucinda flipped round only to be caught in a bear hug.

Gunther squeezed, his nose inches from Lucinda, breathing his rancid breath as he gurgled and giggled. This close, she could see his teeth had become jagged points and his eyes oily black discs reflecting her image.

He continued to exert pressure, swinging her round and round as if they were dancing, cackling into the night, banging her off every surface available.

Lucinda screamed at the excruciating pain of her ribs buckling and her spine twisting as he mercilessly tenderised her. Her vision blurred with spots and colours.

She needed to get him off her to give her body time to heal.

Feebly she thrashed and the soles of her boots skidded through the oils on the floor from the smashed jars. Straining her wrist, she struggled to hook her fingers through the loop in her dagger as he dashed her shoulders through the counter top, sending the contents of the drawer beneath flying up into the air.

The Gabfling snickered,

"Not so smart are we now?"

With one last push, she felt her finger slide through the solid metal loop. Deftly flicking it out of its sheath, she drove the tip of the blade forward feeling it meet unresisting flesh.

Gunther let out a yowl, releasing her. Staggering back, she fought the urge to vomit at the sensation of her displaced bones slowly returning and knitting back together.

"You cut me!" He screamed, over the rattle of the cart, spittle flying from the corners of his lips.

Cradling her aching ribs, Lucinda managed to mutter,

"Did I? Who would have thought?"

Instantly the Gabfling was on her again, the force tipping them backwards, out of the front of the caravan.

Gunther hissed and snarled, gripping her outstretched arm, banging her hand against the metal rimming step. She felt her bones shatter and her dagger fell from her useless hand.

Dirt and small projectiles of stones, flicked up from the mares hind hooves as she continued to gallop over the track. The panicked horse began to make the sharp turn. To Lucinda's left came the creaking of stressed and weakened wood.

They both grappled on the floor, grunting with the effort in the narrow space, knees, elbows and fists attempting to find their target. Gunther caught her by the front of the front of her corset, driving his head forward. Lucinda quickly shifted to one side and there was a hollow thunk as Gunther's forehead connected with the floor instead.

The left hand brace, broke with a sharp crack as the mare made the acute bend, the right hand wheel still stuck in the solid, deep groove of the track. The leather reins slide past Lucinda's vision as the harness became loose, the broken brace bouncing erratically of the ground.

With a squeal, the mare kicked out, dislodging the rest of the traces, taking off into the darkness. With no horse to make the turn, the wagon continued on its trajectory at full speed.

Both the merchant and the Justice Keeper, her head craned back, peered ahead into the gloom at a bank of thick trees fast approaching. They shared a shocked look of realisation as the left wheel shattered under the strain, tipping the cart forward, flipping and propelling into the air.

Lucinda scrunched her eyes and braced herself as, upside down, the wagon descended, crashing into the ground and breaking into smithereens.

Blinking her eyes and shaking her head to get rid of the fuzzy ringing in her ears, Lucinda crawled on her hands and knees, dragging her bruised and battered body from out of the wreckage.

The forest was quiet, broken at intervals by the sounds of one of the wheels squeaking as it continued to turn on its axel and the occasional squawk of the newly librated chicken.

Wincing at the sharp, stabbing pain in her kidneys, the ash blond woman collapsed back into the damp, earth and leaves, murmuring under her breath,

"Just a few more minutes… Few more minutes."

Why the hell hadn't she just threatened the Mystic into selling her the spell? It would have made the whole thing a damn sight easier.

Pushing herself off the ground, she flopped onto her back, immediately regretting it as stars exploded behind her eyes. Rolling uselessly on her side, she reached back onto to have her gloved hand return drenched in dark maroon.

Closing her eyes, she prepared herself, as she gripped the sliver of wood protruding from her lower back. Gritting her teeth, she gave it a yank unable to stop the shrill cry escaping her lips, echoing round the glade.

The offending shard of timber was at least the length of her foot and the width of two fingers and she could only imagine the internal damage it had caused. It could have quite easily of punctured her higher, perforating her heart and turning her to dust.

She was exhausted and drained. All she wanted was to be back home with her family.

Methuselah, she would even give anything to hear Brittany and Santana going at it hammer on tongues.

A manic giggle erupted from her chest at her choice of words as she tossed the make shift stake back into the debris.

The hollow sound of moving timber and a muffled, agonised moan caught her attention.

Time to do what she had come here to do.

Iron-willed, she staggered to her feet, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to ignore the smart of her injury. Stumbling over the wreckage of timber, twisted metal, scattered clothing and household items, she made her way towards the noise.

What remained of the caravan had lodged itself deep into the dirt

Rounding what little of the caravan was still intact she spied Gunther trapped behind it. He lifted his head, jet black globes swivelling to her as she approached,

"Help me!" He wheezed, holding out a grimy hand.

Standing back, Lucinda crossed her arms over her chest and observed the scene before her.

A nasty looking piece if twisted wrought iron had embedded itself into his chest and his face was covered in oozing cuts and dirt. She hadn't thought he could get any uglier but she was being proved wrong.

Never taking her eyes off him, she manoeuvred the remnants of what had once been the merchant's home to one side and wasn't surprised as it crumbled to pieces.

He made a feeble attempt to sit up on his own before collapsing back in a heap, grimacing at the unrelenting metal spike moved. The Gabfling begged,

"Please."

Removing her goggles, she gave him a soft smile before circling behind him, hooking her hands into his armpits and dragging him over to rest against a nearby stump. If she was quick and got him to a Doctor in time, he would probably survive his injuries.

The ash blonde knelt on the stump behind him teasing out a length of catgut as she lulled,

"Not the night either of us planned old friend?"

She listened as he rambled, his words broken by coughs and sputters as she lovingly wrapped the thread round both her palms and pulling out more to make a wide loop.

"I'm sorry." Gunther gurgled and rasped, "If I had known, I never would have… Sebastian. He was offering good money and you know.. "

Dropping the loop over the unsuspecting Gabfling's head, until it came to rest every so lightly against his collar bone, she finished his sentence, icily,

"Business is business, Gunther."

His little brown head, bobbed,

"Exac….."

Lucinda yanked the catgut, swift and hard.

Gunther struggled, feebly attempting to grasp the thread round his neck, his other arm flailed wildly behind him, searching. Lucinda jammed her knee in between his shoulder blades keeping the pressure taunt. She heard the sickening crunch of his windpipe collapsing.

He convulsed and gasped, his hands scrabbling and heels digging into the soft earth beneath as he fought for his last breath.

His fragile body gave one last twitch before ceasing to move completely

The Justice Keeper gave one last tug; hard enough to slice into his flesh as the smell of fresh urine assaulted her.

Unwrapping the catgut, were it quickly snapped back into the spool, she removed a small knife from inside the calf of her left boot, nicking his jugular, just to be on the safe side, before allowing his body to fall limply to the forest floor.

Rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands, she let out a deep sigh before climbing to her feet and brushing the dirt from her already destroyed outfit.

Her muscles ached with fatigue.

She would give anything for a stiff drink and a soft coffin.

Satisfied that if anyone what to happen upon the carnage they would figure it just a horrific accident, she set off back across the glade, reminding herself to keep an eye out for her lost dagger.

Stepping over the debris, a twinkle of bright metal caught her attention. Pushing the busted cabinet to one side, she let out a bark of laughter as her eyes landed on an unassuming ladies travel chest.

The sneaky bastard!

Rummaging through the numerous pieces of clothing strewn over the glade, she found sheet, tipping the contents of the chest onto it, unable to stop the broad smile from stretching across her face.

With tinkle of metal upon metal, she twisted the corners of the blanket together before swinging her makeshift sack over her shoulder.

Glancing up at the night sky, she gauged she had just over an hour before sunrise. With her Vampire speed it wouldn't take her that long to get back to her lodgings, she might even be lucky enough to be able to slip in a quick feed, which would be much more nourishing than a thrall.

Fixing her goggles in place she whistled a merry tune as she limped down the road back towards the town, dreaming of sumptuous life force.

"All in all, she mused, not bad for a nights work."

X

**So guys and dolls, we finally get to see how Luce does things… Let me know what you think **


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